


Time Slips Away

by fatedfeathers



Series: Sands of Time [2]
Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Alternate Universe - Wings, Fluff and Angst, M/M, No Dialogue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-06
Updated: 2017-09-06
Packaged: 2018-12-24 12:36:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12012870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fatedfeathers/pseuds/fatedfeathers
Summary: He wanted nothing more than for Juno to be happy, or as happy as he could be.Except maybe to groom Juno's wings.





	Time Slips Away

**Author's Note:**

  * For [type_here](https://archiveofourown.org/users/type_here/gifts).



> For type_here, who wanted to see Peter get a chance actually get to preen Juno after everything with Miasma. Hope you like it!

They couldn't save his eye, and they couldn't save the feathers lost from either of their wings, but somehow they were still alive. Mars still lived, and life in Hyperion City seemed, for the most part, completely unaffected by the experiences of the past… however long Juno and Peter had been out in the desert with Miasma. Completely unaffected but for the two figures making their way slowly, gingerly to a hotel room.

Juno was too short to loop an arm over Peter's shoulder, and too proud to let Peter carry him even if the thief could lift the detective for longer than a few steps. So instead, they made their way slowly, one of Peter's wings extended to curl around Juno's back to help steady him and a hand curled softly around Juno's own to steady himself.

They made it to their room, and Juno's first move was to collapse into a chair. Peter honestly couldn't find it in him to fault the detective; it had been a long day for both of them, but for him especially. With Miasma, the bomb, _his eye…_

Juno deserved all the rest he could get, and Peter didn't– couldn't– _wouldn't_ hold it against him. He wanted nothing more than for Juno to be happy, or as happy as he could be.

Except maybe to groom Juno's wings. He hadn't gotten further than running his fingers through the outer tertiaries, and since feeling the silk and sand texture of his feathers slipping between his fingers all he'd wanted was the chance to pick up where he'd left off when Miasma's assistants had interrupted them.

Looking over Juno's form as they sat and talked, Peter took in the exhausted slump to his shoulders, his wings. The way his hand kept starting to drift up to his face, his eye, only to stop itself barely past his shoulder. The deep bruises under his remaining eye, darker than Peter had ever seen them before, speaking to the weeks with even less sleep than he usually got. The way Juno's wings were still coated in dust, though the doctors had cleaned the blood off his wrist joint, thinking there might have been another wound there for all the dried blood crusted on it.

He wanted desperately to fluff out the dust and sand from Juno's feathers, make them lie sleek and straight and smooth, so when he pulled Juno into the bed with him he made sure to angle their landing so he could wind a hand around to start gently playing along the tips of Juno's secondaries as they kissed. He wouldn't go further, wouldn't work his hands through the feathers like he wanted to without direct permission from Juno, though, so he waited.

When he received permission, he laid Juno out and gently worked his fingers through the feathers, soft as silk and edged in sand; sliding through scapulars and coverts and alulas and down along the shafts of primaries, sweeping across empty spaces where there should have been contour feathers but there were none. Moving gently, ever so gently against the grain of the feathers to loosen the sand stuck against the skin, only to come back down and smooth them out again, brushing the sand out as he went. Peter could feel Juno melting into the bed under him, a tension he hadn't known he'd been holding in releasing as Peter's fingers danced through his dark plumage. Slowly but surely, the iridescent feathers began to look smoother and sleeker, gently eased back into place, until first one wing, then the other, were finished.

Peter pulled Juno back up into a sitting position so he could shake out the last of the sand, before pulling the detective into a kiss. He wasn't done with him yet, after all. A proper grooming was only the first thing he had in store for Juno; he was just getting started, and they had all night. They had all the time they needed.

\------

Peter woke slowly, an unusual occurrence for the thief. He woke slowly, but content, well-rested after one of the best night's sleep he'd had in awhile. He rose with a languorous stretch, his arms above his head and his wings extended as far as possible in the hotel room. He blinked the sleep out of his eyes, a soft smile so different from the usual sly quirk of his lips gracing his slim features as he turned to wake Juno.

The bed was empty behind him.

Peter froze, the smile melting off his face, to be replaced by confusion, followed by resignation as he scanned the room and took in the added absence of Juno's belongings. He'd almost been able to convince himself that Juno would stay, though he supposed in his heart he'd known it was too much to ask of him.

At least he'd gotten to run his hands through those feathers once more before he'd left.

**Author's Note:**

> ... Ta-da...?
> 
> What did y'all think? Let me know in a comment!
> 
> <3<3<3


End file.
